


in the glare of headlights

by SerpaSas



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Serial Killers, F/M, Serial Killers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 21:13:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/803330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SerpaSas/pseuds/SerpaSas
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You come from hell and he comes from its highway. There’s so few kind things from both your pasts, its amazing you both turned out so good.<br/>Excepting the serial killer bit.<br/>(in which Ruby and Sam are serial killers)</p>
            </blockquote>





	in the glare of headlights

**Author's Note:**

> Written for tumblr's #spnrubytuesday

It had started like this;

He fell in love with you. And you, against all your common sense, fell in love with him right back.

He was a nice boy. You were not.

You had the devil in you; it turned out, he did too. All it took was a gun in his hand and the promise you were doing good.

 _There are bad people in this world, Sam_ , you told him as he turned the pistol over in his hand.

And he looked back at you and said, _I know_. 

Your first date, you kill a man that had just gotten out of jail for rape. He’s bar tending, which is fucking hilarious, since the rape had been in a bar.

Sam can’t quite kill him. That’s okay. That’s what you’re there for.

There is evil in the mans eyes, which you can see because its in yours too. Your favourite thing in the world is watching that evil die when you point your pistol at his head and put a bullet in his brain.

Your second favourite thing is fucking Sam in the bed of your truck afterwards. Your third is speeding away, windows rolled down and a bit of blood still under your nails.

.

The next kill is a treat for Sam. You’ve heard the story of his last girlfriend, how she was sunlight and rainbows and smurfs or whatever (its not like Dean even knew the girl, all he knew was he didn’t like you and tales of the wondrous ex you can never live up to was one of his ways of trying to make you leave. The problem with that plan is its hard to be scared of a dead chick). You’ve also heard the story of how she was stabbed then set on fire by Sam’s best friend, and you’ve heard how he fled, and was never caught.

Well, turns out you’re a better cop than the cops, which is fucking hilarious considering how you like to spend your time. Because you found him.

You kiss Sam hard in the hallway outside Brady’s motel room, where he’s hiding this week, and you slip a sharp knife into his hand. _Don’t cut yourself_. You tease him, then you kick in the door.

Brady only has a second to be surprised before he’s got your pretty knife sticking straight out of his chest. He makes a lovely gurgling noise while his lungs fill with blood.

You don’t understand people that do drugs to feel high; watching someone die is so much better.

.

Honestly, you’d be happy to kill just about anyone, but Sam wouldn’t. He has a moral compass, still, so he doesn’t feel good about hurting innocents.

And when he doesn’t feel good, he doesn’t kiss you like he does when he’s standing in a paedophiles pool of blood. You like those kisses.

.

You come from hell and he comes from its highway. There’s so few kind things from both your pasts, its amazing you both turned out so good.

Excepting the serial killer bit.

You like to think every evil you put up with was all to get you here; every time someone hurt you was teaching you how to hurt others, every time you felt like dying was so you knew how they felt right before you killed them.

You think Sam grew up being taught everything there is to be afraid of in the world- now he’s one of those things.

And isn’t that so much better?

.

Most people wouldn’t think you very loyal. You’re not really the type, it would seem- love and loyalty are connected too much, and the number of things you have loved is frighteningly low.

But you have. You do.

Sam, for instance. You love him. Maybe you’re not as loyal to him as another girl would be, but you want good things for him, you don’t kill people he doesn’t want you to, and you don’t kill him. That’s more than you’ve done for anyone else, probably ever.

Your father, too. You did everything he told you do before he got sent to prison. Even now, you would do anything he asked. Your dream is breaking him out.

So you get where Sam is coming from when he talks about his loyalty to his brother. Except you hate Dean because he’s an ass, so you really don’t.

That part where you love Sam, though? That’s what makes you put up with this. That’s why you’re sitting on his ugly couch in his ugly apartment with a beer Sam had offered you when Dean hadn’t.

You never understood how all those serial killers got married and had kids and houses and stuff, because all they’ve ever made you do is want to kill more people.

Then again, maybe that’s why those guys get caught.

Dean is saying something. About Brady. And how he’s dead. Your stomach drops for a second because you think you’re going to have to kill Dean and that might kill Sam. But Dean is clearly breaking the news to Sam, not confronting him.

How kind of him.

 _I know_. Sam says. _They already told me._

Dean sputters. _Why didn’t you tell me?_ Shoots a look at you like its your fault.

It is, but its not like he knows that.

.

This is how it ends;

The way everything does. You are intimately familiar with endings, you and Sam both, and you’ve been dealing them out for a while.

It ends in your death.

You wish it was more Bonnie-and-Clyde, because if you’ve got a partner in crime and you love that partner, that’s the way you should go, if you have to. Possibly taking out as many cops as you can.

Sam’s not a cop killer, though, is he? He’s also not here.

Until, suddenly, he is, and the cop that shot you is down, his partner is down, and Sam’s the only one standing any more.

He rushes towards you, muttering something about _hospital_ and _stop the bleeding_. It’s cute, how stupid he is.

 _There are more cops coming_ , you tell him. _Get out of here. I’m done for already._

He doesn’t listen, just picks you up and puts you in your car. Starts driving.

You know he’s going too fast, but the world has always gone too slow. You know there are sirens in the background, know they’re chasing you, but that’s never stopped you before, has it? People telling you what to do?

The last thing you see is Sam tugging sharply on the wheel.


End file.
